


naming of names

by tomatocages (kittu9)



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Batman believes in socializing baby superheroes, Conflict Resolution, Friendship, Gen, Secret Identity, Sleepovers, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-11
Updated: 2011-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-24 12:42:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittu9/pseuds/tomatocages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was no stopping Wally when he started using that aggrieved tone of voice.</p><p>In which the newly acquainted Kid Flash and Robin have a sleepover, Wally flips his lid, and Dick questions why he even agreed to spend the night at the West’s house. Batman would probably consider keeping a secret identity in these circumstances <i>training. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	naming of names

"Oh my god. Dude," Wally said, throwing up his hands and looking heavenward, as if he were a character on one of Alfred's telenovelas, "Don't even _pretend_ that this is cool! Stop being such a _Richard_."

Dick flinched, but disguised the movement by throwing a Playstation controller at Wally's head. He didn't bother to respond, because when Wally got worked up like this is was impossible to stop his grandstanding. 

"Ow," Wally said, with astonishing equanimity, and continued with his tirade. "It's like you don't even trust me!  ROBIN. I thought we were BROS."

Okay, that was going a little too far. Dick hadn’t known Wally all that long, but even limited experience had taught him that nothing good could come of the Kid Flash playing the bro card.

"You could try guessing my name, if you wanted," Dick offered. He felt a little desperate and Batman definitely wouldn’t have approved, but he had high hopes of playing a two-player game with a real, live second player.

Wally did not seem to consider the sheer magnitude of the suggestion, and continued pacing up and down the floor, gesturing wildly. He looked like his was hitting his stride, so to speak. "What, is your name Rumplestiltskin? Please.  _Do I look that gullible_? Do you think this is a situation in which I should OFFER YOU MY FIRSTBORN?"

"Dude," Dick said, and retrieved the controller from where it had landed. Maybe he could start a one-player game. "It doesn't matter what I call my player-character. Can we please just start the game?"

"Can I trust you to have my back on the _field of battle_ when you won't even tell me _who you are_?!"

"Oh my god," said Dick. "If you do not shut up, I am never spending the night at your house again."

Wally did at least stop yelling, but Dick was pretty sure that was only so he could inhale, like, an entire box of Girl Scout cookies. Which begged the question: If inhale meant "breathe in," and exhale meant "breathe out," was holding your breath "hale," as in "he haled in hopes of getting rid of the hiccups"? —Except "hale" also meant healthy. Alfred used that term all the time, mostly when Dick had gastric flu and didn't want to admit it. (Are you hale, Master Dick? You look peaked.)

This train of thought almost got him through one level of the game, before Wally's outraged muttering again became audible and Dick was forced to try and smother him with a pillow.

The situation disintegrated from there, to the point where Mrs. West intervened by declaring lights out and unplugging the Playstation. At this rate, Dick would never get to play a game versus anyone but the computer.

*

Later Wally—so annoyed that earlier he'd opened the closet door with unnecessary force and actually broken his own nose—glared up at Dick from his sleeping bag. 

"I told you my name," he groused, still pinching his nostrils against the nosebleed. "I _invited you to my house_. My _mom_ made you _dinner_."

He was impressed; Wally's metabolism must've been pretty darn fast, because the break seemed mostly healed and he only sounded a little muffled. Still, Wally’s persistence was starting to grind Dick’s gears.

"We've been through this," Dick said, not at all patiently. He rolled onto his stomach and peered over the edge of the bed; his sunglasses made it kind of hard to see Wally, three feet away and in the dark, but he could deal.

"I have an inquiring mind and you have trust issues." 

Dick briefly considered trying to smother himself just so he didn't have to listen to another of Wally's speeches, but Wally'd probably take Dick's death as an opportunity to go through his wallet and then Batman would kill Dick all over again, for letting Kid Flash (seriously, _of all people_ ) get to him. At least Alfred would avenge him, Dick thought. He rolled onto his back, haled, and counted to ten, as if Wally could be dealt with as easily as a bad case of the hiccups. 

“Look,” Wally said. He sounded suddenly, suspiciously calm. “I get that it’s a secret identity and all that, but why would the Batman even let you come over to my house if he didn’t trust me an’ the Flash? I’m not being a troll,” he continued. “It’s a valid question.”

Wally’s mother knocked sharply on the door before sticking her head into the room, saving Dick from an immediate answer.

“Wallace West,” she said, “If you harass the poor boy any more, you won’t have to worry what Batman will say when Robin goes home and tells him what an ungracious host you’ve been. I will have words with you, Wally, don’t think having a friend over means I won’t.” She looked over to Dick and smiled pleasantly; he could see her teeth, even in the dark. “Robin, are you comfortable? Do you have enough pillows?”

“Yes’m.”

“You come get me if my son gives you any more trouble,” she said. “Mr. West and I are watching the news in the living room, we’ll be up a while yet.”

Dick nodded faintly, and Mrs. West closed the door again.

Wally cleared his throat twice in quick succession. Dick hoped he was embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” Wally said.

“Dude,” Dick said. “If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have been such a jerk about it in the first place.”

“No, no, see, that’s the point of being sorry,” Wally said. Dick heard a sound that was probably Wally rustling out of the sleeping bag—yep, there he was, pushing Dick over so he could sit on the edge of the bed. “Like, I can be sorry about things that aren’t my fault, too, but I only really _need_ to apologize if I’ve been a dick. Don’t tell my mom I said that, though,” he added. “The part about being a dick, I mean. She’ll probably want to know I apologized. That’s cool.”

Dick didn’t have a lot of experience with this variety of conflict resolution, but Wally seemed awfully sincere.

“Are we cool?” Wally demanded. “Bros respect each other. I can do that. Sorry. Again. Really, Robin.”

Dick giggled a little at that, and sat up. “It’s okay. Thanks.” Wally held out his fist, and Dick reached out a tapped it with his own.

“Awesome,” Wally said. “Hey. Mom took away the Playstation, but I bet I have some board games in the closet. You can pick.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah!” Wally paused. “Well, not checkers, probably, because I’m a jerk when I play that.”

“Then this is very important,” Dick said solemnly. “Do you have backgammon?”

The next time Mrs. West stuck her head in, it was to settle a dispute about Wally’s die-rolls and to tell them to turn out the lights, _really this time_. Dick didn’t much care; by then he and Wally had played almost seven games, and Dick was winning. 

**Author's Note:**

> According to the internet, the kids met two years prior to the show, so Dick was eleven and Wally was, I’m sure, an _exceedingly serene_ thirteen. I’m sure they became bros instantly, but let’s face it: Wally is kind of a drama queen.  
>  On that note, the protestation, “I thought we were bros!” is uttered in my house with some regularity, as is the phrase, “don’t be a Richard” (mostly because my mom would have sat us down and clinically yet explicitly explained the insult “dick” until my siblings and I wanted to throw ourselves off a bridge). I have no doubts that Wally’s mother is just as terrifying, and that he would edit his tirades if he thought she was even remotely able to hear him.


End file.
